The world has gone to hell
by barbaricyawp
Summary: ...but we still have to live. Olivia and Daryl find each other in the woods, and he gives her a new family.
1. but at least I'm not alone

…_**but at least I'm not alone. **_

Dawn light pierces her lids, tinting her inner world golden. She opens her eyes, feels for Kevin next to her. Thank any and all gods, he's still there. (She stopped praying to the Christian god a while ago.)

She sits up slowly, to prevent vertigo. Her family still sleeps peacefully around her. _Shit,_ she thinks. Was nobody on watch? No, Greg sits by the window. She stands and goes to him, her bare feet making no sound whatsoever on the dirt floor.

He senses her approach, and turns to her with a smile. "Morning, sweetheart," he says softly, greeting her with a tender kiss. She leans gratefully against him. If not for Greg, she and Kevin would be dead. They would all be dead, if not for Greg. His arm rests casually around her waist—possessive or protective, she doesn't know. Maybe both? She doesn't care.

"Quiet?" she asks. He nods silently in response. Satisfied, she pulls out of his grasp and makes for the gas-powered hot plate that has been their salvation. He catches her wrist before she can leave, gently kisses her palm and wraps her fingers in on it. His touch sends pleasant, warm tremors through her. He knows this, and smiles at her.

"One for the road," he says, and she returns his smile. It's a private joke of theirs.

She checks how much propane they have left—not much. Carla and Ned have volunteered to make a run that day; she'll ask them for propane. Hopefully they'll remember; it's common knowledge that they go on runs together so that they can fuck in the bed of Ned's car. Post-apocalyptic romance is somewhat lacking in propriety, but nobody really cares. Why should they?

Ben stirs at the sound of the pot on the hot plate. She ignores him as she opens a can of beans with her knife and unceremoniously dumps its contents into the pot. "Beans again?" Ben says in a feeble attempt at a joke.

"Yes," she says shortly. Several weeks ago they ran across a Busch's Best truck on the side of the road, both tires blown, driver little more than a head and a ribcage.

Ben rolls out of his sleeping place and goes about helping her: he collects their collection of bowls and cups for dishing up. "Sleep all right?" he asks her.

She shrugs noncommittally. "Well enough."

"How's Dad?"

She glances at the makeshift bed in the corner: their father sleeps peacefully, his frown lines all but invisible. His wound has been well-bandaged and wrapped tightly, and his breathing calmed several hours ago. "He seems good," she says.

"Mom was up most of the night with him," Ben says. "Greg made her go to bed."

"That's good," she says, stirring the beans with a stained wooden spoon.

"We're lucky you found him."

"He found me," she retorts.

"We're still lucky."

She nods silent agreement, a slight smile curving one corner of her mouth. Ben knows that smile. His grin strips away the years, and they're kids again, huddled on the bed talking about their shared crushes. "Have y'all-?"

"No," she cuts him off sharply. "I can't leave Kevin."

"Liv," he says gently, touching her on the knee, "Jake's been gone a year. You can move on. It's allowed."

"I know that," she snaps, removing her knee. "But I can't leave my six-year-old in a world full of zombies so's I can sneak off an' canoodle."

Ben raises an eyebrow. "Can't you?"

"No," she says firmly. "Wake everybody up, yeah? Breakfast's ready."

Her brother moves around the room, gently nudging people into wakefulness. "Get it while it's hot," he says cheerfully. Carla is first to join Liv at the fire. The two women trade smiles, and Carla gratefully accepts the plate of beans that Liv hands her. They have to ration carefully, even with the bounty of the Busch's truck piled high around them. Ned follows Carla closely, keeping a weather eye on her. He knows why her portion is bigger than his and everyone else's, and it's become evident that he didn't have a family before this.

"Good morning, Olivia," Mom says formally.

"Hey, Mama," Liv returns with a smile. "Sleep all right?"

Mom shrugs, glancing at Dad's prone form in the corner.

Kevin is next. Liv gives him a brimming mug of beans; she can't help herself. He needs as good a chance as he can get in this shitty world. "Eat 'em all, " she tells him firmly.

"Yes, Mommy," he says, and tucks in with gusto.

Greg vacates his post to end the line. "Hello again," he says playfully, taking his portion from her with a wink. Despite herself, Liv blushes deeply. He unbalances her like Jake never did.

She sits by the hot plate while her ragtag family eats its breakfast. Her gaze travels lovingly over them all: roommate, brother, mother, son—Ned and Greg, two hunters who saved their lives months ago. She is grateful for them all, grateful they've stayed safe and together this long. Her mind reaches into the future: they have a secure place, Carla's already pregnant, she and Greg…if they could get a better handle on food supplies, they could have a proper colony before long. Survive, maybe even thrive…and make a future for themselves.

Ben's scream interrupts her thoughts. He's in the corner, struggling with Dad. Two plates of beans lie spilled on the floor. She knows instantly what this means.

"Mom, Carla, get Kevin and get the hell out of here," she says, standing up and grabbing the crowbar that is never far offhand. Greg's already on his feet, gun in hand. Liv leaps to her feet and puts a staying hand on his arm.

"Don't shoot him," she pleads—but he ignores her. He thinks she's asking out of sentiment, but guns are loud, and they can't afford to have a swarm on them. Not now. Not here. It was safe here, it was—

The shot rings out, and Carla screams outside. Ned sprints for the door. Liv goes to Ben, holds his head against her chest as he sobs. Her tears dampen his hair. Then she notices he's bleeding.

"Ben?" He ignores her. "Ben, did he get you?" He won't show her his arm; he has his other hand closed firmly over it. Greg yanks the hand away and draws back.

"He's bit!"

"Ben!" Liv cries out, clutching him even tighter. "Ben, no, don't you do this to me—Ben—"

"_Olivia!_"

"We hafta go," Greg tugs at her. "There's shit goin' down out there."

"I'm not leaving him," she says. "Ben, can you stand up?"

He struggles weakly to his feet, eyes unseeing. He lost his father and his future in a short span of time—but she's about to lose a father and a brother. "Ben, can you hear me?"

"I'm bit, I'm not deaf," he says with a hint of his verve.

"C'mon, Ben, let's get outside," she urges. He clutches his bitten arm to his chest and shuffles for the door. She follows him closely; Greg is already outside.

"_Olivia!_" It's Mom. Mom backed against a tree, Kevin tucked behind her, lashing out with a broken-off branch at four undead who close in eagerly.

"Mom," she breathes in shock. "_Kevin."_ Greg is shooting undead crouched over Carla, who's screaming shrilly. Ned writhes on the ground nearby, clutching his spilled intestines. Bile rises in Liv's throat, but she shoves it down. Kevin needs her.

She wields her crowbar, smashes off two heads in one blow. Blood sprays all of them. Kevin is crying. She kicks another undead in the chest, and it goes sprawling. The fourth gets the crowbar straight through the eye. She's never fired a gun in her life, and she doesn't intend to.

"Mom, Mom—are you all right?" She examines her closely; she appears to be unscathed, if covered in gore. "How's Kevin? Kevin, sweetie?" Liv peers at her small son, who is still whimpering. "Kevin, it's Mommy."

He clings to her, and she rubs his back soothingly. "It'll be okay, sweetie, I promise." She looks at her own mother. "Take him. Get out of here. I'll come find you."

Mom grabs her fiercely into a hug. She returns the hug as best she can. "I love you, Mama."

"Love you, brave girl," she says—and they disappear into the undergrowth. Liv turns back to the carnage. Ned is dead, Carla nearly so. Greg is surrounded by undead.

She plunges in, all but heedless of her own safety. Limbs fly off as she swings wildly with the crowbar, which she filched from Dad's tool bench as they were pulling out. She falls to her knees beside Carla. "I love you," she says dumbly. It's all she can say.

Carla knows; blood seeps out of her mouth, and her eyes are glazed in pain, but she nods slightly, and her hand closes tightly over Liv's.

A corpse falls across Liv, knocking her on top of her best friend and knocking Carla's last breath out of her lungs. Carla's blood bubbles in Liv's face. The weight on her back vanishes abruptly.

She whirls around and springs to her feet. Greg bashes in the undead's skull with a rock. He's bleeding.

Her heart stops.

"Are you-?" she can't finish the sentence.

"I'm all right."

"Answer the question, Greg."

"You don't have much time," he says, avoiding her gaze. "Get in there, grab some stuff, get out. Your mom and Kevin went that way." He points.

"Greg—"

"Don't argue with me," he says sharply. "You have to get out of here! I'll take care of Carla and Ben."

"No." It's all she can think to say. It's not a refusal of his order; it's a rejection. This cannot be her life, this cannot be real. "No."

"Yes, sweetheart," he says. His eyes go in and out of focus. He grabs her by the back of the neck and presses his lips firmly to hers. He tastes of blood, but she responds fervently.

"I love you," she tells him when he releases her. "I'll never forget…"

"You can say my eulogy later," he says. "Get your stuff and catch up with 'em. I told you, I'll take care of—"

Ben has staggered to his feet, but he's not Ben. Not anymore. Snarling wordlessly, he lunges at them both and takes an enormous bite out of Greg's shoulder. Greg screams.

"Ben!" It's all the memorial she has time to give her brother and best friend. She smashes his skull with her bar, and he crumples to the ground, taking Greg with him. She clutches at her almost-lover's hand, tears streaming down her face. She brings his hand to her lips, kisses his palm gently. She folds his fingers in, and he smiles at her through his pain.

"One for the road," she says—and then she runs.

The bunker is vacant, where less than ten minutes ago it held her family. She grabs what she can think of: her backpack, _Leaves of Grass,_ Kevin's teddy bear, a sleeping bag, a few cans of beans, three knives. A rolled-up tent occupies one corner, and she hoists it grimly onto her back.

"Where in the dirt my family lies, fallen cold and dead," she says quietly.

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves.


	2. but I have my family

She moves as quickly and quietly as she can with a tent and full pack on her back. "Mom?" she calls softly as she moves through the woods, eye out for poison ivy. "Mom, where are you?"

A bird twitters, and she relaxes slightly. If there are animals around, odds are the undead are not. She can focus fully on finding Kevin and Mom—as long as the birds are singing. She scans the forest around her, trying to remember what each is wearing. Was Kevin wearing his red hoodie? She hopes so—the nights are chilly. They have no weapons or food. She shoves the thought away.

"Mom?"

A squirrel chatters angrily, and she looks up into the trees. She wishes she had some way to kill squirrels. They're everywhere, and any food is better than none. The squirrel leaps wildly, and she thinks it will fall, but it latches onto the slimmest of twigs in the next tree. The slender branch bobs wildly, but the squirrel keeps its balance, scrambles onto a firmer limb, and disappears into the thick growth.

Liv starts back into herself and glances around wildly. Thankfully, no undead appeared while she was engrossed in watching squirrels. But the birds have stopped singing. She purses her lips and whistles tentatively. To her relief, a bird replies. If the animals feel safe, so should she. Greg taught her that.

_Can't think about Greg._ She gets moving again, peering into thickets that look safe and calling softly for her mother and young son. "Mom? Kevin?"

Still no reply. She's hiking uphill now; she didn't know they were so close to the mountains.

"Mom?" She can't panic. There isn't time for that. Her family needs her.

A muscadine vine catches her eye, and she halts briefly to check if the grapes are ripe. No luck; too early in the season, she decides. She gets moving again, using her crowbar as a walking stick as the slope grows steeper.

"Mom?" She calls louder. It reverberates through the trees and off the rocks.

"Livvy?"

The reply is faint, but it was real. "Mom?" she yells again.

"Olivia!" Downhill, definitely downhill. She breaks into a run and immediately trips, rolling down the hill in a mess of twigs and pack. She staggers to her feet as soon as she loses momentum, staggering dizzily.

"Mom? Where are you?"

"Olivia!" She's close. They're so close. A laurel thicket catches her eye. Would they-?

"Mom?" She approaches the thicket, crouches down, peers in. There they are!

"Oh, thank God!" She holds out her arms and Kevin crawls in, still sniffling. "Mommy's brave boy," she murmurs into his hair, rocking back and forth. "You're so brave, Kevin."

"Thank God," Mom echoes, crawling out with considerably more difficulty. There are twigs in her hair, and scratches on her arms from the laurel's grabbing branches. "Are you all right? Is anyone with you?"

"Just me," she says quietly, and tears well in her mother's eyes. Kevin whimpers, and she hushes him gently. "It'll be all right, sweetie. I promise."

"We should get away from here," Mom says, rising to her feet. Liv follows suit, clutching Kevin to her chest. "Why don't you let me-?"

Liv shakes her head firmly. "Take the crowbar."

They set off into the woods, Mom leading the way. Kevin's face is buried in Liv's chest, but he's quieted considerably. He's too young for this world, this untamed new world.

They walk for most of the day. They don't know where they are, what direction they went in. For all they know, they've gone in a circle. Finally, the sun is sinking, and they set up camp.

"I'm scared to pitch the tent," Liv admits to Mom as she spoons beans into Kevin's mouth. "There's no real way of…protecting it, you know?"

"We'll take it in shifts, you and me," Mom says firmly. This strength is new to Liv. "My watch still works. I'll sit 'til like one, and then we can swap out."

"I'll take the first shift," Liv says firmly, "and I'll sit until two."

"Suit yourself," says Mom with a smile. "You should eat something."

Liv shakes her head firmly. "We have to make it last. I'll have breakfast."

She situates Kevin with his back to a tree, and she and Mom pitch the tent quickly. It's small, barely enough room for Mom and Kevin. It'll have to do, Liv decides. She unrolls a few blankets inside and sets Kevin up with his teddy. He falls asleep shortly after sundown, and Liv makes Mom go to bed, too. They need to conserve strength.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, but never comes through on its threats. She sits under a tree, reading _Leaves of Grass_ but the faint light as long as she can. "I too am untamed, I too am untranslatable. I shout my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world." Rain begins falling, gently, and she puts the book away and hunkers down inside her jacket.

She keeps an ear out for the sound of undead shuffling through the undergrowth, but it's hard to hear anything over the thunder. The sound of rain on leaves is soothing…

She jerks awake and looks around sharply. All is still quiet, and safe. She checks the watch: two thirty-five. Liv wishes she could give her mother more sleep, but she needs her own sleep. She unzips the door of the tent as quietly as she can.

Kevin is sound asleep, snoring his small baby snores, clutching his teddy tightly to his chest. Mom, too, snores softly. Liv nudges her mother gently, and the older woman jerks awake.

"I need sleep," she murmurs. Waving away the apology, Mom takes Liv's crowbar and crawls outside. Liv zips the door closed behind her, and unzips the screen window instead, so she can keep an eye and an ear out. A cool night breeze enters the tent, and Kevin shivers in his sleep.

She crawls under the blanket next to him and wraps her arm around him. Sleep claims her quickly.


	3. and the deer got away

She wakes abruptly, and it is broad daylight. Kevin is still asleep. She places a gentle hand on his back, to insure that a pulse still beats strongly. Snot bubbles at his nose.

She sits up and peers out the window. Mom is nowhere in sight. "Mom?" she calls softly.

The crowbar lies abandoned on the ground, fresh blood on its tip.

Fear stirs in her stomach. She laces her boots and emerges from the tent, zipping the door behind her again, to keep Kevin safe. "Mom?" she calls louder. Groans answer her.

She skids around a clump of bushes, heart in her throat. What's left of her mother is prone on the ground, half its contents strewn across the forest floor. One of the undead is crouched over the mess, enjoying its feast.

"Hey!" Liv yells, to attract its attention. It raises its head, and she cannot help but cry out: the thing eating her mother was Greg only yesterday. Bile rises in her throat, and she vomits liberally into a bed of leaves. Tears well in her eyes, and the undead over its meal blurs into one entity.

The undead straightens and staggers in her direction, snarling. She cannot move. _Kevin,_ she thinks. _Kevin is alone in the tent._ She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. The time for crying is long over.

A deer crashes through the undergrowth, attracting the undead's attention. The buck staggers, two arrows protruding from its side. Tempted, the undead shuffles after the deer as it bounds away as best it can, breathing heavily, eyes rolling.

Liv stands frozen. She hears Kevin call out for her from the tent. "Mommy?"

A sharp pain lances through her shoulder; she cries out in pain and collapses.

"Shit!" She raises her head to meet the angry, flinty gaze of a man with a crossbow. The arrow in her shoulder matches the ones in the deer, she realizes dully. "'M sorry," he mumbles. "I dint—did ya see a deer come through here?"

"Yes," she replies weakly. He falters, clearly torn between pursuing his kill and fixing his mistakes. "Do you—have a group?" she asks him.

He nods reluctantly. Liv staggers to her feet.

"Wait two minutes," she tells him, locking gazes firmly. His eyes flick down, then back up. He nods shortly, and she knows he'll still be there when she returns.

"Mommy!"

"Wait," he tells her as she makes to leave. "Hold still." Before she can react, he yanks the arrow out of her shoulder, prompting a cry of pain. He rips a strip of cloth from his ragged shirt and binds it tightly. "Don' wan' ya bleeding out," he says. "Hurry."

She trots to their tent, ignoring her shoulder as best she can. "Kevin, come on," she says. "Bring Teddy and Mommy's book, okay?"

"Why?" he demands, struggling with the zipper.

"There's a nice man come to take us someplace safe," she explains, helping him with the door and hoisting him into her arms. Bless him, he's got her book as well as his teddy. She manages to grab the crowbar off the ground without falling over, and makes her way back to the impatient man with the crossbow.

"Gotta track m'deer," he says shortly. He holds up his big hunting knife. "I'll mark trees e'er couple feet, yeah? Lead you back t'camp."

Liv nods shortly, to show she understands. The hunter looks at Kevin, who's shyly stuck his thumb in his mouth. "'Sup, lil' man?"

Kevin regards him, wide-eyed and silent. He shrugs and looks at Liv again.

"'M Daryl," he says, and quickly vanishes into the undergrowth.

She follows as quickly as she can, and manages to keep him in sight for over a mile. Blood stains her shirt, but she grimly ignores it and plows on. Daryl has a group. Group means safety. Her arm slowly goes numb from Daryl's makeshift tourniquet. She can't decide if this is good or not.

"Son of a bitch!" she hears Daryl curse loudly. She can't quite see him anymore. Kevin clutches at her neck. She tramps grimly up the hill, using her crowbar as a walking stick.

"Deer gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearing—" She breaks into the clearing. A group of men surround the deer carcass—and Greg's headless body. She freezes, looking at the scene. Daryl's mad at the loss of the deer.

"Think we can cut around this chewed-up part right here?" Daryl gestures with an arrow.

"No," Liv interjects as firmly as she can.

"I would not risk that," agrees a man with a gun across his shoulders.

"That's a damn shame," Daryl said. "Got some squirrel, though. 'll have to do."

Suddenly, Greg's head stirs. Some of the group starts back. Daryl raises his crossbow.

"Wait," Liv pleads. He hesitates, glances at her. Everyone is looking at her.

"Did you know him?" an older man asks gently. She nods mutely, her eyes welling up.

"I'm sorry, I just—I killed everyone else, I should—" Without another word, she drops the pointy end of the crowbar into Greg's skull. "One for the road," she whispers.

"Who're you, exactly?" asks the man with the gun over his shoulder.

"I shot her on accident," Daryl said. "Chasin' my deer and this bastard here." He makes to kick Greg's headless corpse, but falters at the look on Liv's face.

"You've been _shot?_" exclaims a blond girl. Liv shrugs with one shoulder to indicate the injured part.

"We'll get you taken care of," says the older man. "I've got a first-aid kit in the RV. Come on."

Daryl storms into the camp ahead of the rest, yelling loudly. "Merle!" The rest of the group follows uncertainly.

"I'll take him," offers the blonde girl, gesturing for Kevin.

"What's your name?"

"Amy," the girl says.

"Kevin, you wanna go with Amy? Mommy's got a boo-boo needs fixing." The boy nods solemnly, and Liv hands him over to Amy. "Make sure he doesn't drop his teddy, or he'll cry."

Amy nods wordlessly, and Liv leans gratefully on the older man as they make their way to the RV. "I'm Dale," he introduces himself, but he's keeping a wary eye on Daryl.

"I'm Olivia," she says. "Why's everyone so scared of Daryl?"

"His brother got left in Atlanta," Dale murmured to her. A group of women were clustered under the RV's awning. One of them, a dark-skinned woman with cropped hair, disappeared into the shadowy depths of the RV when she saw the blood on Liv's shoulder.

"Thanks, Jacqui," Dale said when she reappeared with the first-aid kit. "You, sit," he said to Liv. She sank into one of the lawn chairs as Dale unwrapped Daryl's crude bandage. "You've lost a lot of blood," he told her.

"No shit," she murmured sarcastically, eyes closed from exhaustion. Shouting drew everyone's attention. Liv's eyes flew open again.

Daryl was engaged in a tussle in the center of camp, pinned down by the man who'd had a gun across his shoulders. "You handcuffed my brother to a roof?" Daryl screams hysterically.

"Is that true?" Liv asks Dale. The older man shrugs.

"Yeah, from what I understand."

Meanwhile, Daryl is being held around the neck by one man while another, wearing an oversized white shirt, speaks to him eye-to-eye. "I'd like to have a calm discussion about this," he says. "What I did was not on a whim. Your brother did not play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," interjects a young black man. "I had the key. I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?" snaps Daryl.

"I dropped it in a drain," is the reply.

Daryl gets to his feet and strides toward the younger man, danger in his stance. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't."

"Maybe this will." Liv admires his resolve in the face of an angry Daryl. "I chained the door so the geeks can't get at him. Strong chain, good lock."

"Hell with all y'all!" Daryl explodes. "Just tell me where it is, so's I can go get him."

"He'll show you," says one of the women near Liv, looking directly at the man in the white shirt.

"I'm going back," he announces. The woman who had spoken storms away; Liv guesses that they're married.

"Are you crazy?" interjects Amy, bouncing Kevin slightly.

The man disappears into a tent, and the rest of the camp disperses awkwardly. Daryl settles himself on a stump and begins sorting through his bolts, checking them for sharpness and damage.

"I'm Andrea," another blonde woman introduces herself to Liv. "Amy's my little sister."

"Hi," Liv says awkwardly. Amy quickly fills her in on the rest of the group: Glenn is the Asian, the young black man is called T-Dog for some reason; the Peletiers are Carol, Ed, and Sofia; Shane is the leader, Rick his best friend; Lori and Carl are Rick's wife and son. Jim is the bearded man in the coverall.

"I don't understand, Rick," Shane says loudly, drawing everyone's attention, "so why don't you throw me a bone here. Why you risking your life goin' after a douchebag like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey, watch your mouth," Daryl says angrily.

"I am," Shane replies. "Douchebag's what I meant."

Liv winces as Dale swabs her wound liberally with alcohol. Daryl glances in her direction, concern furrowing his brow. "C'mon inside, we'll get you stitched up," Dale says. Jacqui helps Liv to her feet, and they struggle into the RV.

"How long you been alone?" Jacqui asks, to distract Liv from Dale's ministrations.

"Never was alone," Liv replies through gritted teeth. "Had my family until…" she groans loudly as Dale stiches her up. "Still have Kevin," she says firmly when she can speak again. "He's my son. That's all the family I need." She licks her dry lips several times.

"Here, let me get you some water," Jacqui says, and disappears out the door again.

"You said you had to kill the rest of them," Dale says quietly. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Liv shakes her head firmly, but the words come spilling out: "My dad got bit. We bandaged it, left him to sleep it off. We didn't know…" She tells him the whole story, amazingly without any tears. He nods sympathetically, and tenderly wraps her shoulder in thick gauze. She flexes it experimentally and winces.

"You don't get to use that for a week at least," he tells her firmly. "That bolt would've killed you had it gone a couple inches to your left."

"Thanks," she says, rising unsteadily to her feet. A horn beeps loudly outside. "Let's go!" Daryl hollers.

"Where are they going?" she asks, making her way to the door and down the stairs.

"They've gone to get his brother and Rick's bag of guns," Andrea explains.

"Seems like a suicide mission," Liv comments. Jacqui hands her a bottle of water, and she drinks gratefully. "Hot damn, that's good," she says fervently.

"Hopefully it ain't a suicide mission," Dale puts in, coming up behind her. "We need those guns, and we shouldn't lose Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, or Daryl. They're some of the best protection we got."

"Well now you've got me," Liv says firmly. "Where's my crowbar?"

"Nuh-uh," Dale says. "You're on medical leave. Doctor's orders."

"Show me your doctorate," Liv retorts, accepting her crowbar from Andrea. "Besides," she grins at her new companions. "I'm a lefty."


	4. and I'm still doing laundry

Liv propped the washtub against her left hip with her good arm and held Kevin by the hand with the other. She found Lori, Carl's mother. "I'm going to help with the laundry. Would you mind keeping an eye on him?"

Lori nodded mutely, her attention elsewhere. Less than assured, Liv followed Carol, Amy, Andrea, Jacqui, and Ed down into the rock quarry, where a beautiful blue lake twinkled in the midmorning light.

The camp she'd stumbled upon, with Daryl's help, was well set-up. Strings of noisy cans guarded the perimeter, and scavenged car seats and sofas surrounded the fire pits, which were built high with rocks so the flames couldn't be seen from far away. Each family had its own tent, for privacy, and strings of drying laundry constantly dotted the camp. The only issue seemed to be food, which occupied Liv's mind as the car rattled down the rocky quarry trail.

They quickly set up an operation on the water's edge; each woman had her own scrub brush and bucket, and they bent industriously to their labor. Across the pond, Shane and Carl were "catching frogs," splashing and laughing loudly.

"Am I the only one starting to question the division of labor around here?" Jacqui asked sarcastically as they carried loads of wet laundry to and from the trunk of Ed's car. Liv chuckled in agreement.

"That's just the way things are," Carol replied with a nervous glance at her husband. "I do miss my good washing machine from home."

"I miss my mixer," Liv volunteered.

"I miss my coffee maker, with that great ol' filter," Jacqui put in.

Amy began reminiscing: "I miss the internet. I miss texting."

"I miss my vibrator," Andrea said in a low voice. Liv snorted, and Jacqui giggled.

Carol glanced at Ed again. "Me too," she said, very softly.

The group exploded into laughter, and Ed came lumbering over to investigate. "What's so funny?" he demanded. "This ain't no goddamn comedy club. Get back to work."

Liv brushed past him to take another load of "clean" laundry back to the car. She could carry reasonably well with one arm, but scrubbing laundry was beyond her at the moment. She couldn't stand not being useful, especially in a new group of people she didn't know.

Seeing that the others were set for a while, she sauntered casually over to Shane. Lori had come to fetch Carl, and he was standing by the lake looking angry about something. "Can I put something to you?" she asked.

"Shoot," Shane said without looking at her.

"A few weeks ago, my group stumbled on a truck full of beans. There's still plenty left in the bunker we were holed up in. Seems to me that it might be worth a group going to get it."

Now he was paying attention to her. "How much food we talking about?"

She shrugged. "I hadn't counted in a while, but we were surrounded by beans. I figure we'll all get real sick of 'em after a while, but I also figure we need food."

"It's worth considering," Shane agreed—but a ruckus had broken out beside the water. Ed had hit Carol, hard; Andrea was flailing ineffectively at him with a wash cloth, Jacqui and Amy were holding Carol away from Ed. All three were screaming at him.

"Trouble," Liv said quietly to Shane, and followed the deputy across the beach. Shane grabbed Ed roughly, threw him down on the ground, and starting beating him ferociously.

"Shane!" Liv barked. "Shane, stop it!" The others were screaming. Gritting her teeth, Liv dove on top of Shane and wrapped an arm around his neck. "Leave off," she shouted in his ear.

The cop staggered back, and Liv released her grip on him. "You lay a hand to her again, or anyone else in this camp," Shane growled into Ed's face, "I will kill you. You hear me, Ed? I'll beat you to death."

"That's enough," Liv said firmly, and pulled Shane away. He shook her off and stormed away, leaving Carol weeping quietly beside her husband.

"Goddammit," Liv swore quietly. She looked to Andrea. "You up for a run later?"

"Run for what?" Andrea asked curiously.

"Beans," Liv replied. "Y'all need food, don't you?"

Fervent nods decided her. "I'll go alone if I have to—"

"You won't have to," Andrea replied firmly.

"We should see if Shane's up for going," Jacqui suggested.

"He won't like leaving the camp unguarded," Amy remarked.

"We'll figure something out," Liv said firmly. "I hate the thought of all that food going to waste when there's a bunch of kids and families right here who need it."

Carol was still prostate over her husband. "What do we do about…?" Liv indicated with a jerk of her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know—"

"Neither do any of us, sweetie," Jacqui replied gently.

"We can't just leave him here, even if he is an asshole," Liv said. "Andrea, will you help me get him in the trunk? Amy, get his car keys."

They sprang to do as she asked. Andrea gallantly bore the bulk of Ed's weight while Liv carried the feet and Carol fluttered helplessly alongside.

"Quite apologizing," Liv told her firmly. "You have nothing to apologize for, you hear me, Carol?"

They had deposited Ed's body in the trunk next to the laundry. Liv wrapped her arms around Carol and pulled the other woman's head tenderly into her uninjured shoulder. "Hush now," she said soothingly. "You have nothing to apologize for. This isn't your fault, none of it. You understand me? Nothing."

"Let's go, Olivia," Andrea said quietly.

They helped Carol into the car before clambering in themselves. Amy carefully put the car in gear and drove slowly up the hill, lips tightly pursed.

"Who taught you to drive stick?" Andrea demanded.

"Dad," Amy said shortly as they pulled into camp. Liv turned to Carol again.

"Carol, you listen to me. Look at me, Carol." She locked gazes and made sure Carol was listening before she spoke again. "You are better than this." She waited for the other woman to nod tearfully. "Remember that. Now: we'll help you drag Ed into your tent, but then we're leaving him alone. We can't be around a man who treats a friend of ours like that." Jacqui rubbed Carol's back consolingly.

They settled Ed none-too-gently in his tent and set to work hanging up the laundry to dry. Carol quietly joined them after only a few minutes, her face grim.

"Lori," Liv called. The other woman handed Kevin over, and Liv kissed her son's hair. "I was telling Shane and some other about how my group had a stash of canned beans in our bunker. Good for a couple of weeks, maybe. I figured y'all could use it, and I was thinking—"

"Shane'll never let you leave camp," Lori interrupted. "Not with Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog gone."

"And Daryl," Liv added quietly.

"And Daryl," Lori repeated. "I'm sorry, I appreciate your thought, but we really can't risk it. Not right now, with half our manpower gone."

"We can take care of the camp without them, can't we?" Liv asked. "We've got Shane, and Dale, and Morales, and Jim—"

"And Carl, and Kevin, and Sofia, and Morales's kids—" Lori retorted.

"Who are going to _starve_ unless we do something!" Liv shouted to make herself heard.

"Everybody calm down," Jacqui said soothingly, putting a hand on Liv's injured shoulder.

"I just don't think we should write it off immediately," Liv said more calmly. "I think we should talk about it, consider it. I understand the risks, believe me. But we weren't that far from here, and there's a lot of food."

"Okay," Lori replied quietly. "I appreciate your…thinking of us."

"You're welcome," Liv replied quietly, turning away with her son in her arms. "How was your day, sweetie?" she murmured.

"Good," he said shyly.

The other women watched her walk away. A concerned frown furrowed Lori's face. "We'll keep an eye on her," Jacqui assured her. "Make sure she doesn't do something stupid."

"I wish we knew more about her," Andrea remarked.

Lori turned away, frowning deeply. "Goddammit, Dixon," she muttered.


	5. and all I have are beans

"You see Olivia lately?" Lori asked Dale, who was keeping watch atop the RV.

"She went off into the woods a few minutes ago," he replied. "Said she knew a couple of edible plants she was going to look for."

"And you believed her?" Lori snapped.

"I had no reason to do otherwise," Dale protested.

"No, no, of course not," Lori apologized. "I just…she tell you about those damn beans?"  
"Beans?"

"Never mind," Lori sighed heavily. "Where's Shane?"

"I'm right here," Shane replied. "What's up?"

Lori turned to him. "Olivia's gone."

Shane sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Son of a bitch. She ain't one of us. It ain't our problem."

"She's gone after some food she knew of," Lori told him. "She tell you about it?"

"Yeah, she told me," Shane said. "You think I should go after her?"

Lori hesitated; her eyes flicked to Dale atop the RV, and Kevin playing next to Sofia. "No," she said quietly. "It's not worth the risk. Not now."

Liv crouched behind a bush, eyes on the walker making his way toward their camp, slowly but surely. She hefted her crowbar in her good arm, waiting for him to approach. When he had passed her by, she leaped out from behind the bush and decapitated him with a single blow. She winced at the pain in her shoulder and pressed on. She went downhill, seeking the camp she and Mom had made. From there, she could find her way. She had to.

The forest was fairly quiet, and she was on the alert. Dale had told her she should be resting her shoulder, but she just couldn't sit still. Maybe she was a little light-headed, or maybe it was the hunger. There was very, very little food in the new camp.

A flash of color caught her eye, and she rounded a clump of bushes to see her tent. Their tent. She ducked inside to collect her knives and pack, and moved on quickly. Her stomach rumbled. _How long since I ate?_

She slid down into a gully she recognized and followed it upstream. Overturned rocks yielded a small collection of freshwater mussels which she pocketed. She kept her eyes peeled for familiar, edible plants but saw nothing. Food would always be a primary concern.

When the gully sloped upward, her pace quickened. She was almost there. She pushed away thoughts of what else was in that bunker aside from beans. The familiar, low hump of the bunker came into sight. She swallowed heavily and stepped into the clearing, crowbar raised.

Body parts lay scattered about, but no active walkers were in sight. She looked away from the mess that had been Carla, Ned—Ben. Dear, sweet Ben. He lay closest to the door. She stepped over him warily and peered inside: nothing moved.

She moved inside quickly, first to her own sleeping place. She gathered up her and Kevin's personal belongings, so they wouldn't have to live off the new group's generosity as much. It took up very little space in her bag. She filled the rest with cans of beans, and grunted as she hoisted it to her back.

It was barely past midday; she could make it back to camp by sundown. Moaning slightly at the pain the heavy pack put on her bad shoulder, she trudged off into the woods, grimly determined.

"It's getting dark," Andrea remarked. "Anybody seen Olivia?"

"She went out," Lori replied grimly.

"She didn't ditch us," Amy insisted. "She wouldn't. And she wouldn't leave Kevin."

"We don't know that," Shane said. "We don't know anything about her."

"She's about as stubborn as any of us," Dale put in wryly. "Reckon she'll fit right in if she makes it back."

"We should be worried about Rick's group," Shane said. "We could use those guns when dark comes."

"But in the meantime, we've got a feast to eat!" Morales declared. "We're gonna eat tonight, y'all!"

Even Shane cracked a smile, and the group gathered around the fire for fried fish.

Liv stumbled on a rock in the dark, and swore profusely. She used her crowbar to hoist herself up again and staggered on doggedly. The cans banged painfully against her back, and she was sure that her arrow wound was bleeding again, but she pressed on. What choice did she have?

She'd passed their tent again already and begun the climb uphill. She was breathing heavily; it drowned out all other sound except for that of her pounding heart. She concentrated on each individual step: _left, right, left, right…_

Kevin would be wondering where she was. Kevin, if nobody else. Amy would look after him; Amy was sweet. Amy and Jacqui were good, and they'd look after Kevin if…Dale knew her story. He'd look after Kevin. It was a relief: she'd known them less than a day, but she knew they'd look after Kevin.

It kept her going, every step of the way. There were people who would look after Kevin, but she wanted to be the one to do it.

Screams penetrated her trance—bloodcurdling screams. She dropped the pack clumsily and ran, heart beating a frantic tattoo in her chest. A walker loomed out of the woods, and she stabbed it brutally in the head.

"Kevin!" she screamed. "_Kevin!_"

Gunshots echoed through the woods, but the screaming didn't stop. She burst through the tin can strings and into the camp. It was chaos, bloody chaos. Jim was flailing around with a baseball bat, Shane had pulled his gun—

She swiped at another walker and it went down. "Kevin!"

"Olivia!" It was Dale, gesturing urgently at her from the RV. "Get over here, get to the RV!"

It dawned on her that her shoulder was definitely bleeding again. She hacked at another walker, splattering blood across her own face. "Kevin! Where's Kevin!"

More gunshots—she ducked—Rick and the others had arrived. Daryl was at her back, firing into the herd. She backed into him, her back pressed firmly to his, for support and reassurance. Her arm was throbbing, but she ignored it. Hack, stab, kick—fighting was all she could think of.

Gunshots, shouting, blood, smoke. Finally it died down, leaving only the carnage. Someone was sobbing, loudly, wildly. She turned to look.

Andrea crouched by the RV, stroking Amy's bloody hair. Liv couldn't comprehend, couldn't process. "Second day," she whispered.

"What's that?" Daryl asked her.

"Second day in a row," she repeated. He followed her anguished gaze to the bodies around them, and clapped her gently on the shoulder. She winced, and he realized it was the injured shoulder.

"'M sorry," he said. She shook her head sharply, and she was back in control—for now.

"Where's Kevin?" she looked around frantically. "Dale, where's my son?"

"Oh God." Carol put her hands to her face. "Olivia, I—I'm so sorry—"

"_Where is he?_" She stormed among the tents and fires, examining each and every body. "Kevin!"

Daryl followed her helplessly. She finally found her son, laying prostate by the dying fire, his fried fish laying abandoned, his arm still wrapped tightly around his teddy—and his face ripped off by human teeth.

"No," she said stupidly, collapsing to the ground beside him. "No."

Daryl looked pleadingly at the rest of the group. Jacqui quickly came to Liv's side, wrapped her arm tightly around her as she keened her grief. "No," she wailed, over and over. "No."

The survivors stood grimly around the camp, clutching each other for support in a world that kept crumbling further around them.


End file.
